. . . Chorophobia . . .

Eleventh Stanza: Elmyra Gainsborough

I taught myself to name my name,
To bark back, loosen love and crying;
To ease my woman so she came,
To ease an old man who was dying.
I have not learned how often I
Can win, can love, but choose to die.

W. D. Snodgrass April Inventory

Elmyra had learned enough to know that once you reach a certain point, you can never go back. Like a train, like a child's wooden duck on a string; it mattered not in the metaphor. When Marlene had tugged her towards that man the little angel called 'Daddy' she couldn't refuse. It was the path set before her.

She guessed that Marlene had thought they would get along: all the adults she loved did. They were all a big family in her eyes; the child had such optimism. Reminded her so much of her little Aeris... so much that it hurt to look at her sometimes.

"Startin ta feel like we in some damn drama," he chuckled, flicking his eyes over to a shock of red and Yuffie's shrill voice. Elmyra hadn't noticed them before, but she certainly didn't care for either of them much. But he always seemed to notice; he noticed so many things, she hadn't seen. Maybe it was good to sit with him.

She had hated this man once, who sat across from her with a familiar unease. She had hated how much danger his appearance had brought to her doorstep, and such responsibility he had left. Sure there was that truly dangerous one; disguised by golden hair and infinitely blue eyes. But it was Barret she had placed the sole blame on: he should have known better. He had a child.

"They're young, they'll get over it," she whispered, shaking her head. He looked at her strangely for a minute, but she just smiled that smile she had learned from her daughter. The one that tells the world you're whole even if you're rolling on the ground without limbs. Not a false smile; but not an honest one.

They were connected; Marlene made sure of that. Elmyra had unwittingly become a half-mother to someone else's child again. Though, she couldn't see her as often anymore. Her father was busy with Corel; not in a government position really. The man was never really cut out for leadership. He was a figure, and he provided just enough elbow grease to keep things running along. His mere presence was enough. But with presence, you have to be there.

"Ya can't always say tha'" he replied, staring directly at her. The effect was unnerving. He could pick up her frail old bones and throw her across the dance floor. He could also tie delicate pink ribbons in his daughter's hair.

"And why not? I am old. I accept that," she said, not really knowing if she was talking to him or not, "You're no spry young thing yourself." He chuckled at that, shaking his head again. His grin suggested that they had a similar flavor; bitter old fools. It wasn't comforting. But it didn't make her want to go and hide.

Gods, she didn't belong here. Any reason she had to be here sank to the bottom of a pool she'd never see.

"Tha' I'm not," he said, with a hint of humor in his dark brown eyes, "Doesn't mean I gotta give up on life." She stared, not sure how to respond to his seemingly thoughtless reply.

How dare he take something like that so lightly.

The side of his mouth twitched at her silent reply. She tried to keep from scowling at his amusement. She didn't like to be made fun of. Especially in her currently embittered state.

"I'm right ain't I?" he said, studying the lines on her face, "Ya jus gone and gave up, didn't ya?" She set her jaw stiffly. She didn't need him to evaluate her life. She didn't need anyone for that.

"Mom, why aren't you happy?" her green eyes always pierced through her, a perpetual reminder that she never bore her.

"Oh, I'm happy dear," she replied, smiling, "I've got you haven't I?" The girl grinned madly at her, and then turned serious again.

"But you miss him, don't you?"

Always so precocious. Her little Aeris. Why did it always blind side her like this... the memories...

She didn't feel it when it trickled down her cheek. She was always so numb now. Tears, smiles, frowns... they all felt the same. Hollow.

"I didn't mean it like tha'..." Barret said quietly. She shook her head.

"It's not you," she replied, a hoarse whisper of a sound, "I was just... remembering." He nodded, the understanding flashing between them briefly. Haunting. She'd summed up her remaining experience with humanity as that. For what could she be in this wandering world?

A wife without a husband. A mother without a daughter.

It was so easy to define herself. Terribly easy. She would have laughed at the absurdity of it. Especially in the silence left after a song had finished. She had recognized the music for the sorrowful and slow melody that it was, and the hollow void left after it finished was nearly crushing.

"Elmyra," he whispered, pulling her back into the current situation, "Look aroun' ya." She narrowed her gray eyes at him. What exactly was he implying. Still, she humored him.

Marlene was pestering Cid, scrunching her little nose at him. He didn't seem as miffed as he acted, and Elmyra couldn't help but smile at the scene. Especially the laugh that Shera was stifling at his expression. With the music restarted, that red-haired troublemaker was now dancing, surprisingly elegant, with the young loud one...Yuffie. The beast creature was grinning at her, his tail flicking absently behind him. Cloud was standing with his arms crossed, just outside the center of tension.

It was all around that girl, Tifa. Marlene's other mother.

The nightmarish man, whom she had seen perhaps once or twice before, was standing just behind her. She thought she could see worry in his face, but it was probably a trick of the light. That man had no expression; of that she was certain. A bald man was shaking the girl's hand, and she smiled at him pleasantly. She had a ghosting of recognition seeing his sunglasses, but then again, her memory often failed her. And Tifa herself...

...looked uncomfortable underneath that smile.

Too many eyes, making you the focus, huh? Dissecting your every move?

She was reminded of her youth when she saw Tifa Lockhart. She had been quite a pretty young thing once; the center of attention of every young man in that small town she had grown up in. And she had fallen for a soldier...followed him into Midgar, like so many young fools...

She distracted herself by inspecting her table companion. Much to her surprise, his gaze was also affixed on Tifa.

That explains... a lot.

"And what am I looking at, Mr. Wallace?" she said, her voice resuming its normally soft tone. She only called him that when she wanted to catch his attention. He preferred to be on a first name basis with everyone; and disliked it when his surname came into conversation. He wanted to be friend; that was for certain.

And to others, perhaps something more.

"Life, Ms. Gainsborough, life," he replied, tearing his gaze away from Tifa, "Don' no one tell ya otherwise. It's tha people tha make it happen." She saw the tinge of regret that emanated from him, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the need to be strong. Stronger, at least.

"Ah, but you've given up too," she replied, arching her eyebrow, "You chose to be alone." He frowned.

"Can't hide anythin from ya, can I?" he answered tenatively. Tifa had always joked with her, saying that Barret was just a softie. But the girl had failed to realize the cost of such a disposition. And every smile, every flirtation, and every dance she made with another man added to his debt.

A man without a wife. A father holding onto his daughter for dear life.

"They're really family to you, aren't they?" she added unconsciously, twirling a lock of her graying hair. He stared off into his thoughts, considering her words.

"Only as much as they let me," he murmured, shaking his head, "Can't hold onto to 'em much longer. They gots families of they own. All I kin do is watch Marlene, raise her up right, and hope they all fine." She smiled cynically. They sounded so alike when the others weren't around. She didn't have to be the outsider, or the reminder to the lost one of his unending guilt. He didn't have to be "good ole Barret" and humor them with their happy lives.

For the happiness of the both of them rested solely on a little girl, who was flitting around obliviously in her pink dress.

And Elmyra hoped that she would forgive them someday. For when she became older, she would shrug off their stifling love with the first passing boy. And they would only hold onto her tighter, wishing that children didn't have to grow old, didn't have to leave them behind.

At least this time, she wouldn't necessarily outlive her.

With this realization, Elmyra finally broke down. She didn't care how childish she looked; sobbing like the world was ending. But to her, it had ended. With a solemn "I'm sorry" as he handed her a familiar pink ribbon. She had survived the apocalypse only to find out that... that...

A large hand tentatively patted hers.

She looked up, her vision blurred by the tears. He was standing now; a tower of strength like all the others saw him. And he was crumbling, little by little. She felt like her body would just fly away with the next wind, she was so delicate and frail. She never realized what 48 years of living could really mean. And for an instant, she envied her, with that noble death.

But she was standing now too, not realizing that she had made that automatic response.

"Walk wit me," he said quietly, holding out the crook of his arm to her. And she took it; staying the trembling of her hands.

Maybe she would have a friend, when Marlene had grown up, when the others had buried their guilt. She certainly hoped so. They both needed that little girl; there was no hiding it.

Maybe they needed each other too.

AN: Finally an update. Been quite busy lately, plus I've a cold to boot. So I blame any weirdnesses on the cold medicine. And HypernatedRikku: calm down. Remember what I said about being more bold? Getting out of your comfort zone? That applies to fanfiction too. I suggest reading some good reffies; you'd be surprised at how well some authors can pull them off coughTijuana PiratecoughSabriel41cough. And no, I'm not entirely converting. I'll write you a nice one-shot sometime, k? Love to all who've been reviewing...I'm amazed at how many are following this. Btw, you Vintifa fans...I drew something. It's not much, but considering the scarcity of vintifa fanart out there, I'd figured I'd share it with ya: http: www . deviantart . com / deviation / 15184341 / (just remove the spaces)